Sunday, 10 March 2013

Some Were Betrayed

I've never been one to give up on a sequence, and I'll be damned if I do it now. Day 26, you're up, you bastard.

On Finding Out

Just when we thought it couldn’t get blacker,
the sun goes down.
A sickness blisters.

The ceiling holds an indefinable answer,
though to stare
is to let the minutes
tremble from your eyes.
They loop the neck to strangle,
every breath less real in its certainty.

What have we been doing all these year?
The faded games of unknowing
sound in our ears
as uncontrolled explosions,
taking us by surprise
like lost cities.
Like the noises we make
when we’re dying.

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